A Six Point Nine Stone Weakling No More
by Writer Awakened
Summary: Tired of having sand kicked in his face, the six point nine stone weakling Eliwood stumbles upon the pamphlet that will change his life forever. Eliwood/Lyn. Written as a 'fill', this thing's heavy on the irreverent humor. The story of MANLYWOOD.


_A Six Point Nine Stone Weakling No More_

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(A/N: Don't take this fic _too_ seriously. Please. Really.)

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Eliwood didn't get the title of "greatest warrior in Lycia" for no reason. Roland may have been valorous, Elimine chaste, Durban strong and Hartmut brave, but no one did it all like Eliwood the Great. He was known as the most balanced hero there was, and the most honorable to boot—in fact, he was the only lord that the people could throw their lot in with without feeling silly. Hector was a brainless meathead, and Lyn was a _girl_. So as far as lords went, there was no one better than the redheaded Pheraen lad. No other warrior combined speed, strength, and skill like Eliwood did (there were those who said he was lucky to be so skilled in each of those regards, but Eliwood flicked those people away with his middle finger). After the static at the Dragon's Gate, the marquess of Pherae returned to his homeland to unanimous praise and unequivocal love from his underlings (and his wife, but we'll get around to that).

And why not? He wielded the legendary sword of Roland himself, the "Blazing Sword," Durandal (which some of the stupider townsfolk called the "Falcon Sword" for reasons Eliwood could never fathom). He could lift two hundred pounds with his _nuts_ alone. He choked a dragon to death with his bare damn hands—underwater. Without breaking a sweat. He had two chins, and underneath both of them were fists. Anyone who saw him fight was utterly enthralled by his power and grace, even with a sword as large and as imposing as Durandal. Raven asked for one of Eliwood's used iron swords. Sain swore a solemn broath to him, and Geitz asked to sign his name on his back, below the "I Love Mom" tattoo and above the "Smoke a Bowl" one. Rebecca was so taken by Eliwood's strength and panache that she dropped her top for him—but Eliwood decided to pass that honor on to his little whelpling Roy. For that matter, his wife was fond of dropping her top—but again, we'll get to that.

But the story of Eliwood, marquess of Pherae and all-around cool guy, would not be nearly as interesting if he didn't begin his life as a simpering, pacifistic, decidedly uncool little boy. He never saw this as a problem, though, and in fact he was very proud that his first solution to Elibe's problems came in the form of diplomacy and intellectualism. Then the war began, with his father Elbert's mysterious disappearance, and even then he believed he could escape with his string-cheese-like muscles by using his agility and training as a fencer to outwit and evade his opponent's blows. Then one day he was sitting on a beach somewhere next to Lyndis, the noble lady of Caelin, talking about probably unimportant things, when Hector arrived, five sheets to the wind, with a decanter of Bernese brandy in one hand and something _else _in his other.

"Oi! ho there, Pansywood!" Hector said, ambling over to where the two were sitting. Now, Eliwood was not used to being called 'Pansywood'. Only his closest friends knew that his birth name was "Pansino Woodward," so being called "Pansywood" in front of the girl he was really quite smitten with (any man with half a dick would be taken by Lyndis, he reckoned) was a _major_ embarrassment for him.

"Hey!" Eliwood said. "Wh-what are you saying, Hector?"

"Yerr jusht a pushy," Hector said, hiccuping and slurring his speech in the way that all extremely inebriated people do _all_ the time. "Frock you! Yerr jusht a six shtone weaking!"

Eliwood was completely shocked. For as boorish as Hector could be, he was never quite that much of a jackass, even when he _was_ completely shitfaced. So he had no idea why his friend was so virulently mocking him, but it wounded him just the same.

"A-A weakling?"

"You ungainly oaf!" Lyn said, turning to Hector and back to Eliwood. "Eliwood, are you going to stand for this? Or, um, sit down for this?"

"W-W-Well, I—"

"Aww shhhhaddup!" Hector yelled, and with his great iron sabaton kicked up a cloud of sand right into Eliwood's face, laughing uproariously.

As Eliwood rubbed the sand out of his eyes, coughing grains of the beach, he heard Lyn admonishing him for his weakness. By the time he got all the sand out of his outer crevasses, he could do nothing but watch as Lyndis left on the arm of his muscled friend, kissing and groping each other and everything. Eliwood cursed upon seeing Hector feeling up Lyn's ass—just the _thought_ of that blockhead feeling beautiful Lyn up made him furious._ He_ wanted to be the only one allowed to grope her! Why else would he waste so much time making boring small talk? But because he was only a six point nine stone weakling, he found himself empty-handed in that regard, and unable to do anything about it but fight silently against his existential angst.

Dejected, Eliwood took a long walk on the beach (he considered telling Lyn he liked those, but that wasn't a nearly cool enough thing to like). He passed by a hot dog stand and was about to head back to the camp when he saw a flyer laying on the sand. Curious, the beach boy picked it up and began to read.

"_HEY, SKINNY! Are you tired of being a six point nine stone weakling? Are you tired of getting pushed around? Well, have I got the solution for you! Stop having boring muscles, stop having a boring life. With the help of me, Charles Le Maine, I can turn even a stringy little wusscake like you into a natural-born killer with the strength of ten lions. All you need is the guts to try my tabasco-chugging, tiger-wrestling workout regimen. I can make you a manly man, in just fifteen seconds a day! Charles Le Maine—even Roland worked out for me! If you're interested, come to 555 Siciliano Street in Ostia—we're right on the docks!"_

After reading the pamphlet, Eliwood became imbued (and probably imbrued) and instilled with a sudden burst of hope. The next time he and his fellow warriors returned to Ostia, Eliwood made his way to the headquarters of Charles Le Maine with a fat sack of gold and he emerged with a handful of strangely magical-feeling rings as well as a few frankfurters—Charles Le Maine, it seemed, was big with the Franks. Eliwood slipped each of the ten rings onto a finger and he was overwhelmed by a power beyond that of human ken, a power that spoke to him in his mind and slapped him around like a wet fish a little bit. He lost consciousness, and when he awoke, it was like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon...

Not to imply that Eliwood was like a butterfly, because pretty little mariposas are flamboyant and not manly at all. He was like a moth: cold, colorless, and drawn to DANGER. He had become ripped, like Hercules on steroids _and_ HGH after pounding five beers, three hot dogs, and an Etrurian chick in a Pheraen bikini. The Durandal was as light as a feather to him, and with his great strength he'd also gained a great deal of courage—he literally felt strong enough and brave enough to choke a dragon with his bare hands, which he was of course going to do. He replaced the energy-less energy rings with gold and silver rings and went to the jeweler to load up with as much ice as he could afford. He bought himself a purple cloak, diamond-studded cane, and forest green hat to complete his new wardrobe. Finally, Eliwood decided it was time for some payback—hardcore style.

Eliwood stormed into Castle Ostia and busted into Hector's room, where he and Lyn were sloppily making out.

"Oi, Hect-durr!" Eliwood said, flexing in front of the incredulous two. "Payback's a bitch—and I'm the pimp!"

With the strength of a charging rhino, the speed of a charging cheetah, and the skill of a charging credit card, Eliwood pummeled Hector into dust so effortlessly he wondered if Hector was even trying. Presently he turned to Lyn and flashed his iced-out right hand.

"Is Eliwood the Great going to have to smack a bitch up?"

"Eliwood! That was incredible!" Lyndis raved. "I didn't know you had it in you!"

"Well, that's funny, because," Eliwood flipped his hair back nonchalantly. "_I_ did."

"Oh, Eliwood. You're so...strong..."

"Of course. And you're hot. I want you to have my babbies. And with both of us together, our son will be the most legendary, most irresistible man on the planet. AndhecansuckleonRebecca'steats."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Eliwood quickly. "Don't worry, baby. Everything will turn out all right. With my strength and skill and grace and charm and speed and your...speed, together we can change the world."

"ILU Eliwood," said Lyn, and she leaned ever so gently against his six-pack as he stroked it.

":3" replied he.

That night, Eliwood made like a gravel pit excavator and made Lyn's bedrock.

Shortly after the grueling and taxing final battle against Nergal and the dragon on the isle of Valor (and of course Eliwood proved he was the greatest hero to ever have lived with his exploits there), he and Lyndis were married in a grand ceremony and had a son named Roy and their happy love was known far and wide, the story of the consummate hero Eliwood the Great and his lovely lady of Caelin Lyndis. Then Lyn died.

~FIN~


End file.
